


His fate, his future

by ChocoNut



Series: Many ways to say I love you [83]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Happy Ending, Inner voice, JBWeek2020, Jaime's patience pays, Pining, Season 3 to Season 8
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-30
Updated: 2020-09-30
Packaged: 2021-03-07 16:13:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,937
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26730448
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChocoNut/pseuds/ChocoNut
Summary: Who am I?I have no name, no form, only a voice—a voice inside him. My purpose is to guide Jaime Lannister to his fate, to never let him stray from what he’s meant to be.
Relationships: Jaime Lannister/Brienne of Tarth
Series: Many ways to say I love you [83]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1234904
Comments: 16
Kudos: 63
Collections: Jaime x Brienne Week 2020





	His fate, his future

**Author's Note:**

> For "Patience" I cooked up something unusual in an impulse, completely out of my comfort zone.

“We’re going back to Harrenhal,” he tells Steelshanks, much to my horror. “I’ve left something behind.”

“We are _not_ going anywhere except home,” I hiss to him as he mounts his steed despite my protest. “And home is where your family is,” I explain, wanting to leave no room for a misunderstanding. “Your destiny lies ahead, not in retracing your steps.” But I can read Jaime like a book, predict his impulse, his stubborn urge to protect the maiden in distress.

“I can’t leave her there to die,” he argues, tugging at the reins to double the speed.

And I know better than to reason with him. I know that attempting to detach him from his resolve, once set, is as good as hitting my head on a wall. “Very well,” I play along reluctantly, “but no more halts or diversions once we’ve secured her release.”

He rides on without a word and all I can sense in him is anxiety and nought else.

I can feel the blood pumping madly in his veins when he jumps off his horse and rushes up the stairs.

There’s a lot raging within him, something more than just compassion to save an innocent life.

Anger blinds him, his remaining hand twitching. There is the unbearable need to cut down the ones that stand between him and the woman doomed to die. Yet, he gulps this all down and gets down to negotiate a ransom, to use words of temptation to his advantage like a true Lannister would.

And when his deal falls flat, he leaps down to his death like no Lannister ever would.

A Lannister does not sacrifice himself for a stranger, a woman who’s dragged him in chains. A Lannister doesn’t care for someone outside his family, someone—

I pause, holding my breath. Every move he makes brings him a step closer to death. Reckless, he’s least bothered about his own skin, to get the wench back up there, the sole objective of this self-destructive march into the lair of the Stranger himself.

“Your duties are towards your family, your sister” I scold him, relieved, though badly shaken, when he’s hauled back up to safety. “You’re not bound to protect this Maid of Tarth, not—” 

“I dreamed of her,” he simply says, staggering to his feet as he prepares himself for one last verbal confrontation with the woman’s captors. I can see his thirst to have the last word in this conflict come alive in his head.

This dream—I know of it, I’ve seen it too. But is that all it will ever be?

+++++

A dream, I had hoped it would remain, a momentary fit of selflessness, but little did I know he’ll dwell upon it even after he’s reunited with the love of his life. He’s grown to care for the wench, grown to feel things he doesn’t realize yet, cannot put a name to.

“Lady Brienne faces a path of her own,” I keep reminding him, from time to time steering him back to where he’s meant to be. “You have yours.”

“And never shall the two meet,” he ruefully echoes what I’m about to say next. “I’m aware of that, thank you. Despite that I can’t—”

A knock to the door sets his heart racing again. And as she walks in, I brace myself for this meeting—for a goodbye it is going to be.

Just as I feared, it’s more than just two friends parting ways. _Go after Sansa,_ he tells her, _and take my sword, take my heart with you._

And when she looks at him, I know it isn’t going to be easy for me to pull him out of this.

When he sees her out with a soulful wisp of her name falling off his lips, I can sense an oncoming storm.

“You’re not going to do that,” I warn him, sensing his impulse to rush after her when she turns back at him one last time, those big blue eyes stirring so much within him, calling out to him. 

“I’m worried about her,” he murmurs, and I can feel it grip me, too. “If Cersei decides she has a hand in Joffrey’s murder—”

“Brienne is not your responsibility,” I firmly drag him back. One of us has to abide by reason. One of us has to make sure we hold our ground. “Your house, your duty—”

“Maybe one day,” he sighs, gazing wistfully into the distance. “Maybe—” he lets it go, and tearing his eyes off the empty road, trudges back with a heavy heart. 

I’d sigh, too, if I could. I know exactly what is in his mind. 

+++++

The yearning, his ache, a fervent wish for her to succeed—it all gushes out with full force when he grants her time until dusk to negotiate with the Blackfish.

“That’s not the Lannister way,” I tell him, fearing this unexpected meeting might end up a lot more than it is meant to be—a parley.

“I can’t turn her down,” he turns me down, refusing to look away from the blue eyes that often turn up uninvited in his head.

“She’s the enemy.”

“Maybe, but—” 

She loosens her belt to pull out her sword, and he’s distracted, forgets I’m around.

She tries to return it and he declines, pained by her intention, by the possible revelation that she doesn’t regard it as more than what it appears to be. 

“Let go,” I gently tell him, for it is time for him to come back to what is real.

“It will always be yours,” he affectionately promises her, completely ignoring my presence.

He can’t bear the thought of parting with her, he laments his destiny, his helplessness and inability to do more than give her his heart in the guise of a weapon.

“Don’t even think of it,” I try to dissuade him, knowing what’s cooking in his mind as he watches her walk away. “You’re a Lannister. You belong to your house, your loyalty lies with the crown.”

“Loyalty, yes—” he breathes in deeply “—but is that all there is to a man?”

“You must do the right thing, Jaime.” His wavering mind alarms me. “Your sister lies in wait for you. You can’t betray your family.”

He walks back into the tent. “Maybe one day,” he pines, his fingers trailing the edge of the table as he paces its length.

I doubt he can get over her, but the hope still remains.

+++++

 _Cersei's going to betray them,_ he keeps telling himself, saddling his horse with whatever he needs for the journey. _But I made a promise—_

“But you turned down Brienne when she approached you,” I mention, recalling their heated exchange at the dragonpit, those heartbroken blue eyes he so ardently admires.

“I had to keep her safe from Cersei.” I can still sense a fear deep down in him. “I couldn’t—”

“You’re turning your back to your sister.” For the first time I don’t disapprove of his impulsive decision.

“Don’t you always keep insisting I must do the right thing?” He mounts the animal when he’s ready. “I made a promise,” he repeats what he’s told Cersei, “and I’m going to keep that promise.”

For once, I have nothing to stop him with. Do I even want to pin him here only to have him break another vow? _Do the right thing_ , I’ve been telling him all along, but what is right and what is not, I’m now beginning to question.

“Maybe one day I can tell her,” he starts again, when we set out to welcome the first snowflakes to visit the city. “Let her know of my feelings for her,” he goes on quietly, the deep sense of longing that accompanies him whenever he speaks of her returning to keep them company. “Let her know what she means to me.”

“You love her,” I point out, not shying away from the word like he does as I reach out into the depths of his heart, to where she resides. 

He gives me no answer. He doesn’t have to. And for the first time I find my stand tilting, I find myself wishing his patience pays.

_Maybe one day…_

+++++

_She’s hateful. And so am I._

“The last I knew you weren’t this hard-hearted,” I taunt him as we ride away into the cold night. I can read his intent, can see why he’s doing this, yet, I cannot bear the sight of the woman sobbing, begging him to stay back.

“You know I have to stop her,” he croaks, the pain from within making its way to his voice. “You know this is the only way—”

“At what cost?” I can’t see this end with anyone being happy. “The love of your life is heartbroken. What if you died in the capital without ever seeing her again? What if—” Not wanting to rush down that path, I quickly think about something to calm him down. “There’s always another way.”

Lost, and rapidly losing conviction in what he’s set out to do, he brings us to a halt. “What should I do?” he asks, for the first time seeking my counsel before I can impose it on him.

“ _Maybe one day_ , you always kept saying,” I remind him, hoping the memory will fill him with light, show him the path to his true destiny. “ _This_ is that day, the time to make her yours.” He takes a deep breath, and I can sense he’s inclined to agree with me. “Your patience has won, Jaime,” I push him further. “She is yours and you’re hers. Don’t let that shatter to pieces. Don’t let yourself and her wither away without love.”

He turns the horse, then pauses for a moment.

“Go home,” I gently encourage him, “to where your wench is.”

And he sets out instantly.

“Have you told her?” I ask him on the way, knowing full well he still hasn’t.

He shakes his head.

“Isn’t it time?”

He nods.

The first rays of the sun hit us when we re-enter the gates he’d sullenly left behind. His heart beats louder than ever. His palm is damp, sweat sticking to his glove despite the cold morning air. 

He walks into their chambers with guilt and regret, but more than that, a heart full of love. He takes in her eyes when she takes him in.

“I’m sorry,” he barely whispers, reaching for her hand.

She blinks, tears trickling down her cheeks.

“Is it too late to tell you that I love you?” he comes out with it, at last.

She leans, her lips touching his in the softest kiss they’ve shared. “It’s never too late, Jaime.”

+++++

“Thank you,” he tells me later, when his wench is fast asleep in his arms. “If it weren’t for you—”

“I am a part of _you_ ,” I spell out the obvious. “All these decisions have been yours, Jaime. I only lent a helping hand—” I look back at the ones that have cost him the years gone by “—and influenced you when I shouldn’t have.”

He nods, then smiles. “Even so, you have my gratitude.”

“I will always be there for you,” I assure him.

He closes his eyes, holding on to his lady like he’s never going to let go of her. A wave of peace washes over his face, a faint smile touching his lips.

This is his fate. She is his future. Now that he is where he’s meant to be, I am peaceful, too. I can rest now. He doesn’t need me for the time being at least. 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading and let me know what you think :)


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